he’d decided to take the blame himself. “I’m sorry.”
I was appalled at my rash behavior and frightened by the thought of the consequences that might have befallen me if Slade had been a weaker, less noble man. I stood there in an agony of helpless longing as he headed for the door.
“Please don’t leave me!” I cried.
“I would have to go even if we hadn’t almost-” Slade shook his head. “I have to deal with Stieber, then Niall Kavanagh. When I’m finished with them, I’m going after Lord Eastbourne.”
“You’re not going without me.” I hurried to the door and stood with my back against it.
Impatient, and angered by frustrated desire, Slade said, “We agreed that going in the workhouse would be the last thing you did.”
“That was then. Things are different now.” I tried to forget my own desire, calm myself, and speak rationally. “I want revenge against Stieber, too. Not only did he torture me in Bedlam; he killed my most loyal admirer, a man who saved my life. I owe justice to Mr. Heald. Besides, I have my own quarrel with Lord Eastbourne. I have to make both of those villains pay.”
“And how, pray tell, are you going to do that?” Slade deployed scorn as his shield against me.
“I’ll think of something. How are you going to find Niall Kavanagh?”
“I’ll think of something.”
“I can save you the trouble.”
Suspicion narrowed Slade’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“When Mr. Heald came to rescue us, you asked me if I had anything else to tell you. I didn’t get a chance to answer.”
“What is it?”
“I know of a place Niall Kavanagh might have gone,” I said.
“Where?” Slade demanded.
I folded my arms. “I’m not telling you unless you take me with you.”
Slade groaned. “Blackmail again! Why am I not surprised? All right, tell me where you think Niall Kavanagh went. I’ll go to my lodgings and retrieve my bag. We’ll meet at the train station in an hour.”
I could imagine arriving at the station and finding him long gone. “No. I won’t tell you where we’re going until we’re on our way.”
Slade’s expression turned ominous, but he realized that I wouldn’t back down. “Very well. But this will be our last venture together. And-” He paused, searched for words, then said, “About what happened in here: I promise it won’t happen again.”
I half expected Slade not to show up at the train station, but he was waiting there, his valise in hand. “Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?” he asked me at the ticket booth.
I told the clerk, “Two tickets to London.”
“Why?” Slade said. “Haven’t we already searched it thoroughly enough to be sure that Niall Kavanagh isn’t there?”
“London is only our first stop.”
“May I ask what our final destination is?”
If he knew, he might escape me along the way. “You may ask, but I’ll tell you only this: be prepared for a long journey.”
Slade demonstrated his powers of deduction. “We’re going to Ireland, aren’t we? To hunt Dr. Kavanagh in his native territory.”
I finally admitted as much.
“We shouldn’t just hope to run across him by wandering around blindly,” Slade said. “I suppose you have a notion of where to look?”
“I do.”
Upon arriving in London, we transferred to a northbound train and rode all night. I slept through the Snowdonia mountain range and awoke as the train rattled over the Britannia Bridge across the Menai Strait. The sunrise turned the water into shimmering gold. Soon we were in Anglesey, a large island off the Welsh coast. We glided past green cornfields to Holyhead, the port for travel across the Irish Sea. After we left the train and breakfasted in the refreshment room at the station, we walked to the jetty where the steam packets took on passengers. We’d hardly spoken during our journey, and we did not speak now. Neither of us was eager to address the concerns that we must address eventually. We purchased our tickets for passage on a steamer bound for Dublin. I paid for them out of the funds given me by Lord Palmerston; Slade had very little money left from a cache he’d hidden somewhere in England before he went to Russia and retrieved sometime after he’d returned.
The weather turned stormy while we were at sea. A journey that should have taken four hours extended to eight. I am prone to seasickness, and I could not bear to go below deck, where the ship’s tossing was most strongly felt and other passengers ailed. Only by sitting still in a deck chair, in the rain, with my eyes closed, could I keep from being sick. To my relief, the sea calmed as we drew near land. I felt better as I stood at the railing and watched Ireland appear, its green hills obscured by mist.
Here was a place comprised of two different worlds. One was the land of myth and imagination, of haunting airs played on fiddles, harps, and pipes; of leprechauns, changelings and magic spells; of Celtic warriors, roving bards, and strong whiskey. The other world was my own family’s homeland. Papa had grown up on a modest farm in County Down, one of ten children. His brothers had stayed there, but Papa had left Ireland in 1802 to study at St. John’s College, Cambridge. After he was ordained, he made a trip to Ireland to visit his relations. He never went back again.
I had never been to Ireland; I believed I was English to the core. But when the ship docked at Kingstown, I felt an affinity for Ireland, even though my first sight of it was less than pleasing. The afternoon was gray, the piers deserted, the amusement park drab in the rain. The only Irish I saw were laborers offloading cargo from ships. But their shouts rang with inflections that sounded like Papa, who’d never entirely lost his accent. When we reached the railway station and I negotiated for tickets to Dublin, Slade turned to me in surprise.
“I do believe I hear Ireland in your voice.” His own brogue was perfect; adept at languages and disguises, he seemed the quintessential Irishman.
“When I was a child I spoke with an Irish accent,” I recalled. “I picked it up from Papa. It’s coming back.”
While riding the five miles north to Dublin, past the rain-soaked tenements on the outskirts of the city, I reflected that there was a third Ireland-the world shaped by the English. In 1541, Henry VIII declared himself King of Ireland and seized lands from the Irish lords. Elizabeth I and James I completed the conquest. Protestant Englishmen colonized Ireland and formed a new ruling class. In 1641, Irish Catholics rebelled. The Catholic gentry briefly regained control of the country until Oliver Cromwell reconquered Ireland in 1653. There followed the bloodiest period in Irish history. A third of Catholic Irish were killed. Much of their land was given to British settlers. The Penal Laws banned Catholics from public office, excluded them from many professions, deprived them of the right to own property and vote, and restricted the practice of the Catholic religion.
The French Revolution fueled the spirit of revolt in Ireland. In 1791, the Society of United Irishmen rose up against the English. Papa’s brother fought with the rebels. But the rebellion was crushed, rebels and civilians tortured, massacred, burned alive, and hanged. Some fifty thousand people died in the Irish Rebellion of 1798. The result was the Act of Union, which in 1801 abolished Ireland’s parliament and made Ireland a part of the United Kingdom. In July of 1848, the year that revolution swept through Europe, a nationalist group called Young Ireland attempted an uprising at Tipperary. The rebellion was easily put down by police. England still held Ireland firmly under its thumb.
I am a staunch English patriot, but I couldn’t help sympathizing with Ireland, the underdog. Half of my heritage originated from this wet, misty landscape that I saw passing by the carriage window. Here on Irish soil, two bloodlines warred within me.
At the station in Dublin, I said, “It’s too late to go to Niall Kavanagh’s family home tonight. We must find lodgings.”
“I have friends here,” Slade said. Indeed, he had friends in all corners of the world, people he’d met during his espionage-related travels. “They’ll lend me a bed. And I know the perfect place for you.”
Although I didn’t want to be separated from him, I didn’t object. I didn’t think he would abandon me now that
